


Daydreaming

by mols



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Dramatic Leckie is my kind of Leckie, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, PWP without Porn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, pavuvu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mols/pseuds/mols
Summary: When everything seems awful, Leckie finds hope in warmth.





	Daydreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u Lydia for helping me with the English <333 You are the sweetest and an inspiration.

Leckie hates everything about this place, this situation in which they are now.  _ Every damn thing about it! _ The constant, immutable and heavy humid air brought up by the unbearable hot weather associated with the equally constant, and heavy, tropical storms, the current officer upon him, Larkin - that had just stolen his personal and sentimental loot?!-, the damn tropical diseases, the goddamn bugs!    
  
The mud! All the mud! All the goddamn mud they are almost always deep knee into!

Ok, there is something he doesn’t hate here: his comrades, especially those three guys he has been with since the beginning of their journey and were together until now: they’re known as Runner, Hoosier, and Chuckler.

He loves them and that’s why he doesn’t kill himself or go crazy like some of the other guys have. That’s the whole only reason why he doesn’t go anywhere or do anything (stupid) but complains. He complains about how much he hates all this godforsaken jungle, about how he detests the weather, the food, the painful aches, how much he hates his life and his decision to come. The place probably could be nicer to look at, if he could choose the season of the year to visit - to visit, not to come to slip and lay down into holes in the ground while receiving everyday rain showers, every hour, even before bedtime (even during bedtime).

He hates a lot of things and he complains out loud about all of those things he hates so damn much; with such a poetic passion, it’s needed to be pointed out - it’s even a little odd since they aren’t even close to being the best nourished here to spend their energy like that, but he still does. 

Hoosier listens to his rambles, like the other guys, but when it’s enough for him, it’s enough. He demands Leckie to shut the fuck up if he won’t do anything about Larkin - the other things he had no way to do anything about them, so his officer is the only thing he could do something about. They are all in this hell hole, no one wants a new headache, Leckie’s new headache.

However one of these nights, something happens, something different happens.

He is alone with his taller friend, Chuckler, under a mildly intense rain. 

The other guy has his white undershirt glued to his body, going transparent, and all of a sudden Leckie can’t ignore it and so he tries to not stare, and when he does stare at it - what he can’t help doing - he does it as discreetly as he could possibly do. Everybody has everything glued to their skin these days: to their faces, the hair falling and attaching to their eyes, insistently like the bugs, to their muscles and flesh, the wet clothes cooling their already freezing skin, but Chuckler is taller than most of them and so he stands unique, in a really special light when by himself.

Chuckle usually is the most light-hearted of them and doesn’t complain as much as the others. He cares actively about everybody in their group and takes good care of them, as much as he possibly can in a place like this anyway. He always has a smile (or chuckle) on his face for them - when he isn’t hella surprised with something new, watching absently minded life pass in front of his eyes as if time had stopped, as if it was possible beyond cinema theaters’. 

He’s also an all tall, really tall and athletic-like kind of guy. Large even, but mostly on the measure of his wide shoulders and hips; his waist goes suddenly slender than the shoulders, the shirt marks it well as it clings to the torso. Leckie thinks about his grin, the most genuine and contagious one Leckie has ever witnessed. His hair as curly as Leckie’s but darker. His eyes so blue, so damn blue and pure. They seem to sparkle with the shine of the stars every time Chuckler smiles - and of course, they always reach his eyes!! It’s suddenly odd that he seems to realize and think about all these things just now. 

Leckie keeps watching him, the cold of the freezing water accumulating on his skin, under the same white undershirt. His own curly hair is almost annoying him enough to make him tear his eyes away from the only crease in the middle of Chuckler’s shirt, just under the spot where the shirt hugged his friend’s chest displaying his hard nipples for the cold, and above the well defined abdomen, but of course, he seems to have no will to tear his eyes away. After all, the thick hair brushing against the upper part of his eye doesn’t take much of his attention, not enough to stop him from staring, his eyes almost completely relaxed as if sleeping by themselves.

Chuckler turns around and frowning softly, he chuckles. Leckie snorts a low laugh of his own.

He can’t stop staring, his lips barely twisting on a half smile.

“Are you alright, Leckie?” Chuckler asks, his dark eyelashes flickering slightly, showing its whole complexion. He has something, a small cloth in his hand that he partly wrings as he watches Leckie watching him, a little embarrassment.

Leckie nods, his eyes lifting, but slowly, very slowly.

Suddenly the cold penetrates his flesh and he trembles. Oh, it feels like the water has reached his bones - and the nerve message reached his brain.

Chuckler comes near him as he watches his friend getting all cold and wraps him in a half hug, throwing an arm gently over Leckie’s shoulder after all.

“Are you alright, buddy?” he asks again, unsure, leaning to Leckie’s shoulder as he pulls his friend’s body to him, while dragging Leckie inside the tent. “Need some body heat?” 

He chuckles, but Chuckler is as remotely malicious as he normally is, as much as it’s difficult to find a guy who isn’t in the Army, Chuckler isn’t a guy like that. Leckie snorts again in disbelief but nests against Chuckler’s chest.

“Yeah…” he finally says.

Leckie can feel the hot burn of Chuckler’s innocent stare on him.

“Just tonight,” Leckie says as if explaining, “Just tonight.”

He blinks, sleepy. As much as the cold of the rain keeps him awake, he is tired and so he can’t help blink; plus, he has a warm and wide chest under one of his freezing ears, a whole side of his face lay down against it, actually. It’s suddenly hot and then mildly cold.

Chuckler is as soaked as him, but he is a human body, alive. He’s still warm and so Leckie snugs even further Chuckler’s chest.

He is so sleepy that he just realizes he is lying down when he is falling onto Chuckler chest again, but his body is also falling onto the rest of Chuckler’s body.

Leckie looks up in wonder at his friend:

“Sleep, buddy,” Chuckler admonishes, combing the soaked curly hair of his friend gently and caring.

Leckie nods, blinking again, bringing his hand to Chuckler’s chest, beside his head.

“I will,” he murmurs and drifts off to sleep with his lips parted, drooling onto his friend’s chest. He knows he’s finally gonna dream with his warm bed...and a hot body against him.

He drifts and imagines home with Chuckler, sleeping against his chest in a bed of their own. It’s good. Everything seems possible. He finally has some -new and odd kind of- hope.

He just hopes it can last, the hope and this moment.

War can come later.


End file.
